Preordained
by AngstyAcy
Summary: ..."Dreams? No, they are illogical and unreal, with no factual basis or relation to reality. They are irrelevant." Or, at least that's what L would like to convince himself of.
1. Sleep?

Disclaimer: This fanfic is for three specific people who are nonexistent and merely a product of brilliant minds.

Author's Note: Hello! Here is, as promised, the edited first chapter. Again, this is my understanding (or imagination) of L, Misa, and Watari, so, if there are any OOC-ness, I apologize in advance!

Oh, I would like to thank my beta, Moonchild 10, for being incredibly supporting even though I think I'm bombarding her with too much. And thank you to my special insane friend who is also reading this fanfic and giving me wonderful advice. Love yah, Sha-chan!

I hope you guys enjoy this!

_First Epistle from the Fates_

Chapter One:

Sleep?

It was night time, the period of the day when people were usually snug and warm in their beds, dreaming the night away. Not all people, though. One person, who usually deviated from normal human behavior for his own purposes and amusement, was sitting with his knees to his chest in a darkened hotel room, poring over the new information he had just received from his investigators, and almost gnawing on the pad of his thumb.

L chewed absentmindedly, his black-rimmed eyes staring unblinkingly at the computer screen as the thoughts in his head raced, processing the new information and providing answers automatically. If the suspect was seen in a mall more than twenty kilometers away at the time of the crime with a person who looked exactly like the victim, and taking into account all the previous data, it could only mean that the probability of…

"L." Watari's deep voice rumbled somewhere in the vicinity of the door, breaking his concentration.

His body not moving, L's eyes slid to the side and glimpsed Watari's shining white hairs in his peripheral vision as the other man bowed slightly.

"What is it, Watari? I am doing something." He answered tonelessly, picking up his spoon and scraping the chocolate icing from a plate, the remnants of a particularly decadent cake he had been enjoying a few minutes ago.

"You should sleep. You have been working on this case without stopping for almost four days now. I know that you are an extremely intelligent person; as such, your brain needs to rest. You know this." Watari said quietly.

Turning slightly, L stared at Watari as his mind rapidly dredged up responses and probable emotions according to his character and the social norm of human relationship and interaction. He turned his attention back to the computer, feeling displeased. That last part sounded almost like a rebuke.

"I do not need you to tell me what needs to be done. This is unnecessary." He replied, his voice icy and sharp. "Please bring me a banana split, now, Watari."

For a moment, there was no sound in the room but the grating of the spoon on the plate.

"As you wish."

Watari left, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Now sufficiently distracted, L placed the plate beside the computer. However much he rationalized otherwise, he knew what Watari said held more than a grain of truth.

Tapping a finger to his lips, he considered sleeping. The case was not hard, which meant he didn't have to dwell too long on it, though the constant and irregular influx of new information and other evidences made it extremely unpredictable. Besides, he found that if he didn't sleep, his thinking capacity was lessened by approximately 5 percent, though the sweets helped a lot in recovering for a while. He favored eating sweets to sleep any day. Still, he needed sleep every now and then.

However, he had long ago discovered that just the thought of going to sleep was more than a little irritating.

There was more than one reason L was an insomniac. He stayed up late tapping away at his keyboard, searching the internet for new information, reviewing evidences, and generally being absorbed and addicted with his work. Of course, no matter how heavy the workload became, he always solved each case and caught the culprits. Sometimes, though, he couldn't help but question the significance of the entire operation when he was the only person working seriously towards improving security. And he often only took the more serious, intelligent, threatening criminals; what more for the small crimes happening in daily life. He was, after all, only one person.

There were times when he had to admit that the whole repetitive process was a bit too boring and predictable; he couldn't help but inwardly lament that there were just not enough bright people in the world to challenge him. But he was too consumed with his need for justice to dwell too much on it. And he would not allow himself to lose his purpose, ideals, and goals merely because he found that he preferred eating strawberry cake to looking at the distorted face of the criminal from last week.

Drumming his fingers on the table beside him, he thought that sleep was a little overrated. Why should one sleep when there was still so much to do, so much delectable sweets to eat, so much to think about? It was necessary, yes. But it made him feel a bit too human for his taste.

There was another reason, though this one was more difficult to explain or even understand. However unpleasant it was, he decided that his current state of health afforded a couple hours of sleep.

Unfolding his lean body from the chair, he stuffed his hands in his pocket, shoulders hunching slightly, and shuffled out of the room.

He walked down the hallway and, turning the corner, came face to face with a silent Watari carrying a bowl of banana split.

Watari gave a small sound of surprise. "L…"

Blinking, L rubbed the back of his leg with his foot, staring as the syrup oozed in a straight line down the side of the banana split's ice cream. "I'm going to sleep, Watari. Please freeze that once more. Thank you."

Scuffing his feet a little on the cold marble floor, he continued to walk towards his room at the end of the hall, visualizing the banana split and anticipating eating it after a few more hours. Because of the prolonged expectation, he knew the taste would be better, and the ice cream would be cool and refreshingly sweet on a slightly parched, newly awakened throat. He almost shivered in delight.

Watari stared after him, a small smile playing on his mustached lips.

* * *

_It was dark all around, and he walked on smooth, blank air. He was afraid of falling off wherever he was, the ground felt too thin; like, if he moved a little to the left or the right, he'd fall forever. And it was freezing. Shivering, he hunched, drawing closer to himself and trying to warm his body. He rubbed his feet together for a while, and then moved forward again._

_There was the faint sound of water dripping in the distance. It seemed like he was in some sort of cave. But there were no walls or rocks. He could feel the hairs on his skin rise gradually as the sound of water drew nearer and nearer._

_He wanted to leave. Not that he was frightened. But the cold was really bad for his sensibilities; everywhere he went, the places were usually moderated according to his preferences. Or, at the very least, the places were the usual normal human haunts. This weird place had a major offense in his book concerning facilities and peculiarity. _

_It seemed like he walked for hours. The temperature continued to lower, and the dripping drew closer and closer, though he never saw where it was, or even any body of water. In fact, he never saw anything at all. There was just the seemingly unending darkness and the musky, mildly damp, slightly odd smelling air. _

_Everything – the darkness, the floor, the water, the air – felt and smelled extremely old; like it was one of those ancient, secret places. After a while of feeling nothing but the cold, he was surprised to realize that he had forgotten his chewing and scratching habits. He shuddered involuntarily; that seemed almost like the shedding of a skin._

_First there was just darkness, and then there wasn't. Suddenly, as if he hadn't just been walking through darkness, there appeared a triangular shaft of light just a few yards from where he was walking. He stopped, wondering about the luminescence of it as it emitted a soft glow and illuminated the darkness. There was just the gentle glowing of the light now. _

_Shaking like a leaf and feeling uncomfortably drenched – though in what, he didn't know – he started forward once more, strangely drawn to the light. _

_As he drew closer, he noticed that the dripping had faded away. It was replaced by the soft murmurs of a lilting voice. Pausing, he cocked his head to the side and listened, fascinated with the beautiful, human sound in such an unnatural place. _

_By now, he had stepped into the light, and it flowed over him and, somehow, through him. He wasn't cold or wet anymore. He felt almost numb. _

_He took a step, and the light flashed. He closed his eyes instinctively and clenched his fists in irritation. What exactly was happening? Why was he here in the first place?_

_Slowly, cautiously, he inched his eyelids open. Then he stared in shock. _

_There, in the middle of the overflowing light, stood a young man with clean features, hazel eyes, and a handsome profile. The man was naked. His head was bowed, and the fine, brown hairs on his head shone unnaturally._

_Blinking, he rubbed a hand on his shoulder, and realized he was naked too. Undaunted, he opened his mouth. "What is this place?"_

_The young man slowly raised his head. "I don't know."_

_The hairs on his arms rose. _

_The voice that answered was soft, slightly shrill, the same one he had heard a while ago. _

_It was without a doubt a young woman's voice._

_He jerked back from the man, unnerved. What just happened? He knew, somehow, that the face and the voice were two entirely different personas. And yet, it went against everything he knew and had been taught. Inexplicably, he felt a wealth of emotions run through him in a flash: surprise, wonderment, comfort, hate, respect, awe… even love. _

_The man smiled at him, and his eyes sought his as if he had always known him. _

"_Don't you remember me?" he asked quietly, in the same lilting woman's voice, his hazel eyes softening tenderly. His hand rose and reached out to him._

"_Will you..." he paused, his beautiful voice echoing. "come to me?" _

_L gazed at his face, the voice playing in his mind again and again. As the ground vanished beneath his feet and into the waters, his arms reached out, his voice calling, trying to catch, to hold… and then he was falling, falling…_

* * *

L's eyes shot open and he gasped softly. In the silence of his cold hotel room, it seemed as if the voice still echoed its lilting melody.

* * *

_Everything can happen._

Socrates


	2. Dream and Kira

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

* * *

Chapter Two:

Dream and Kira

L stared at the gold gilded and silver patterned ceiling above him, his heart beating erratically, his palms slightly sweaty. It was the same dream, the one he had first had when he was seven, and again when he was twelve. Illogically, he had somehow anticipated it would come again.

Blinking, he brought a hand to his mouth and bit his thumb harshly. The first night he dreamt of it, he woke up with uncontrollable hissing and slightly panting breaths, and his roommates, who were trained light sleepers like him, roused from their beds and looked at him questioningly. After a mumbled 'nothing, go back to sleep,' he lay in bed for a long time, chewing on his thumb, staring at the white ceiling with almost blank eyes, and ignoring his roommates curious eyes fixed on his still form in the darkness.

It was almost unthinkable that he would be reduced to losing his control all because of a dream. And thrice now, for that matter. It was unspeakably embarrassing, which made the entire situation even more upsetting because he felt such strong, irrepressible emotions about it.

L cast a surreptitious look around the room, his eyes moving slowly around their sockets, almost prepared to see people jeering and cameras flashing. He sighed soundlessly when the room remained conspicuously blank and quiet. Feeling put out with his uncharacteristic show of superstition, he rose from the bed and dangled his feet over the edge, the carpet rubbing his feet. He laid his feet on the floor, slightly reassured with its solidity and softness. His body stiffening slightly as he padded to the bathroom, he kept his eyes firmly ahead and resolutely determined that he would not, in any case, not now, not ever, look under the bed to ascertain if there were indeed monsters – a nauseating fear that was like a wispy fly buzzing around his head especially after this particular dream. Growling mentally, he scratched his ear ruthlessly.

As he gazed at his haggard face on the bathroom mirror, the white, clinical light heightening the shadows under his eyes, the dream flashed in his mind again. This time, he allowed it to go slower, examining every detail until he had memorized it in its entirety and could still think of nothing to explain it. He could not provide a logical reason or impulse why it would happen, and especially to him. In the first place, he didn't even know the man's face, much less the voice. The disparity of the two entities' gender was stark and staggering. He didn't know what to make of either of them.

Secondly, it was also the strangest dream he ever had. Usually, he didn't dream. If he did, they were unfocused, blurred images that moved too fast for him to make sense of; in which case, he ignored them entirely. This dream, on the other hand, was extremely detailed and almost real. It was surreal, to say the least.

L dabbed his wet spidery fingers on his eyelids, his hand skittering lightly across his skin. He clearly remembered what he did the first time he had dreamt of it. The very next day, he had marched (or, as much as he could march with his small, hunched child's posture) to the library to find books on dreams in the orphanage's extensive library, only to be turned away for trying to get in while holding and licking an enormous cone of chocolate ice cream with one scoop splattered all over his candy-stained shirt and the rest leaving a mess on the floor. He did not allow himself to be deterred and spent the next thirty minutes convincing an unyielding, hook-nosed, greasy-haired librarian that knowledge should not be denied anyone, no matter how dirty or disheveled they looked. The librarian was firm and, looking at his shirt and mouth with disgusted eyes, commanded him to come back when he was nice and tidy, and not looking like a 'horrid mud monster with a mouth from the depths of hell'. His mouth thinning and lowering on the sides slightly (he never pouted, no, even as a child, he was perfectly respectable), he left and returned twenty minutes later, hands bereft, wearing a blindingly white shirt, and smirking demurely. The librarian merely glanced at him and beckoned him inside. Staring at the back of the oily head in consternation, he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out, finally looking around and devoting his attention to the towering masses of shelves lined with books. He spent the whole day attempting to find books that would give him an idea on the dream and its origins, going from bookshelf to bookshelf, tirelessly looking up despite his small height. However, all the trouble was for nothing; the books he found were dream explanations, statistical analyses, and dream interpretations that helped minimally and were all frustratingly vague. For the rest of his days in the orphanage, all his free time was spent in the library trying to discover what his bizarre dream meant. By the time he left, he could claim to be a veritable authority on the subject of dreams.

After his first dream, he became more interested in solving cases and crimes that the orphanage presented to their children, and lessened the amount of time he slept, preferring instead to immerse himself in his work and figuring out the dream instead of actually experiencing it.

Drying his hands on the towel, L blinked at himself, fascinated by the unfamiliar expression on his face – his eyebrows drawn closer together than they normally were, looking like a cross between fascinated and irritated, surprising him with his before unknown ability to create entirely new facial masks.

All of which was probably a product of his annoyance over that dream. The dream had visited him only once again, when he was twelve years old and on the brink of puberty. This dream, though, was slightly different for it wasn't just that particular dreamscape. It started in the same way, but the voice took on a new quality, becoming annoyingly high-pitched and jarring to the ears, and berated him on his sleeping habits and his obsession with sweets, which was more incredibly at odds with the face's calculating, manipulative look, and odd, secretive smile.

He then found he had a slight aversion to shrill voices and cold hazel eyes. It was all very irritating and wearisome.

L silently left the bathroom and crossed the bedroom, his feet sinking on the soft carpet floor and dragging his steps. In the end, he left the orphanage not knowing answers and swearing to figure it out alongside his personal quest for justice.

In the meantime, there was work to be done.

He opened the door and rang Watari, asking for his banana split and licking his lips in anticipation as he headed to his temporary working area, the dream once again stored safely away in the back of his mind.

* * *

It was astonishing how much excitement his body could hold and yet remain remarkably still. He had been feeling it for the past few weeks. L felt the compulsion to suddenly leap up and shout churning in his very bones and pounding in his veins as he read the information again, the thoughts swirling like rapid-fire in his head and his fingers trembling slightly on top of the computer keyboard.

_Kira!_

He was without a doubt one of the best criminals – if not, the very best – L had ever examined. He made his moves with the grace of a brilliant chess master on his favored board, steadfast and bold in his tactics, cunning and ambitious in his stratagems. His ideals were, though unorthodox and misguided, strong and furious in their intensity. L couldn't really blame him his ideals; they were not without cause or platform.

There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to meet this man face to face.

L stilled his treacherous hand as he brought his thumb between his teeth and bit forcefully. Kira was still a criminal, no matter how exceedingly bright he was. L could not, would not, allow himself to lose sight of the larger picture: they were both on opposite sides of a war that had been raging since the beginning of man. His purpose was to arrest him, nothing more. His main prerogative was finding where Kira was; he was thus governed by more pressing concerns.

Like figuring out who, exactly, Kira was.

Swinging around in his swivel chair, L carefully reviewed his actions for the past few days. He had devised a plan of forcing Kira's hand and narrowing his search area, believing him to be a genius in possession of a healthy amount of god complex. And he was, as usual, ineffably correct. Kira took the bait, and L was coming closer and closer to his goal.

His lips twitching, L rose from his chair and walked about the room, his pleasure almost palpable.

Outside, Watari looked at L's form from a small crack in the opened door's side, his eyebrows drawn together in concern and worry.

L didn't notice as he drew close to the room's large dark window and looked out, his eyes blinking rapidly and his will fortifying its strength. He was going to affirm, once and for all, his justice. He had rejoiced, for going against Kira proved to be a chess game on a crooked board. He was on a high. He had never in his life faced an opponent on such equal grounds. It was like eating chocolates for a whole day without stopping for anything, even work.

Letting out a slow breath, L's lips inched up in the smallest of smirks. He was looking forward to seeing Kira's next move.


	3. Shock!

Disclaimer: For my three favorite characters!

* * *

Chapter Three:

Shock!

The hotel room was exceedingly cold and harsh. L felt it acutely, and wondered how and why he never noticed how hotel rooms turn up the air-conditioning extremely high.

"L," Watari laid the files carefully in front of him. "This is the list of all the FBI agents sent here and killed by Kira."

L hunched closer to himself as he picked up the pile of paper.

"Thank you, Watari."

Looking at him shrewdly, Watari narrowed his eyes. "You know my thoughts about this entire situation. You should have –"

"I know," L cut in sharply. "Do not assume I was unaware of the risks when I allowed them to enter Japan. Everything is already planned."

"Then," Watari said, turning around to leave the room. "I probably already know what you will do next."

L stared after him, irritated. He didn't know why Watari always felt the need to inject his opinion in everything he did. He had no right.

Chewing on his thumb, he turned back to the files.

His stomach churned.

Calmly, rationally, he began to analyze the situation once more.

L knew exactly why Kira killed the agents. He had expected this, and had been tempted to advise the FBI not to send any people, as there was a particularly high probability of losing their lives in the process. But good wars need good, trained men. He needed them.

He had needed them to lose their lives for his next move.

L brushed his thumb along his red-stained, dried lips.

Besides, every war has its casualties. They were necessary, to the whole Kira investigation, and to the promotion of security and justice. If they didn't die, he wouldn't have been able to narrow down his search to the people trailed by the investigator Ray Penbar – another victim of the bloody game.

He plucked a strawberry from a frozen cake and popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly, relishing the taste of the melting juices in his mouth, and trying to tamp down the fire raging in his chest.

* * *

The investigation team was in the other room, looking through some files relative to the recent deaths.

Watari handed L two piles of paper.

"As you know, each detective assigned to Japan investigated two families. These are the families Ray Penbar was trailing, L." Watari paused. "As you also know, one of them is Chief Yagami Souichiro's family."

"Hmm," L tapped a finger to his lips. "Soichiro-san is part of the Kira investigation team. He has access to specific information the other family doesn't. Let's see his file first."

Watari inclined his head and handed him the first file.

Casually, L raised a cup of overly-sweetened tea to his lips and flipped through the papers, speed-reading the profiles of his investigator, the wife, the daughter, the son –

His hand stilled, and the tea cup fell to the floor, spilling the tea and sugar cubes.

"L," Watari started forward, staring at the drops of tea sinking on the carpet, then looking up at him. "Are you alright?"

L stared at the file in front of him, and wondered if the world was coming to an end.

There, gazing back at him with a small, confident smile was the man from his dream.

_Hazel eyed, brown-haired, handsome. _

It was him.

Shakily, L rose to his feet, the file quivering slightly in his hand.

"Yagami… Light…" he read the name softly, scarcely believing his eyes and feeling even more confused than the first time he had seen his dream. Why –

"Do you need anything? Some water?" Watari approached cautiously, his hands twitching at his sides.

L straightened, laying the file aside and memorizing the information. "I am fine, Watari." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to think of a reason, a rationalization, of what was happening.

"Would you please get me more cake?" He turned around, his eyes distant.

Observing him carefully, Watari snapped to attention and bowed.

"Of course," he replied, heading to the door. "I shall be back in a moment."

* * *

L lowered the window halfway and gazed at the young man coming out of the front door of a house down the street, the corner of which his limousine was parked.

_Yagami Light_.

L looked at him circumspectly, scrutinizing every detail.

He was white, clean, neatly dressed, and groomed to perfection.

There was no doubt about it. Yagami Light was the man from his dream.

Yagami Light brushed his brown hair carefully out of his eyes, and waved to someone inside the house. L's eyes narrowed as he bit his thumb.

He now knew that Yagami Light was the first in academics, sports, and extra-curricular affairs. He was incredibly popular in school, and was, according to the teacher recommendations, a very well-mannered person.

At first glance, he seemed innocent, faultless. Though to L, he was too innocent, too perfect.

After he had read the file on Yagami Light, he knew he had to see this person for himself. It wasn't everyday one sees a person one has only dreamed about.

He could think of no apparent reason he should dream about Yagami Light. L didn't know him, and would never even encounter him if he weren't the son of his chief investigator. And to think he was in one of the two families Ray Penbar was investigating.

It was too much coincidence to be actual coincidence.

L scratched his head. Though this may be true, his dream and seeing Yagami Light may be independent events. His probabilities and calculations should not be affected by it.

However, he could only arrive to one conclusion concerning his dream. He must have somehow known Yagami Light. And that he was Kira.

"Let's go." He called to Watari, glancing back as Yagami Light walked away.

It was too early to conclude. But he couldn't shake the suspicion that he was right.

* * *

L got out of the car, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gazing in glee at the display in the sweets shop he had recently discovered. He stopped when a brown-haired person passed in front of him, laughing heartily. Frowning, he stared at the ground.

Everything may just be accidental, but if it wasn't…

Then Yagami Light was indeed Kira, and the probability of catching him would be higher.

Despite the unlikelihood of the connection, he had come up with several ideas on exposing him, calculating the probabilities and most favorable outcomes. Even though he was still going to explore other leads, he had already planned several steps ahead.

No matter how intelligent Kira was, L knew what he was doing. He was going to win this game, no matter what it took.

For now, he was buying those delectable looking truffles and that large, syrup covered shortcake in the shop window's display. He needed to restock his supplies; the next nights would certainly be without sleep. Eagerly, he moved forward.

The air was suddenly knocked out of his lungs and he was thrown to the wooden door of the shop forcefully. Blinking in mild confusion, he slowly righted himself and sat with his knees to his chest. He chewed on his thumb slowly.

"Misa!" a sharp voice rebuked. "Look what you did! You just knocked that poor guy off of his feet!"

"It's because you're too energetic." Another voice said, this time solemn and slightly huskier. "You should be more careful."

Ah, so somebody bumped into him. He started to turn around. He would not allow such indignity to pass. He had to make sure that this person was properly chas…

His thought process promptly stopped.

A voice, soft, slightly shrill, had replied, whiningly. "But, Aki-chan! Misa was going fast, and he was standing in the way! What did you expect Misa do?"

He jerked his head around and looked up.

For the second time, his breath was knocked out of his throat.

He was dimly aware that the girl called Aki sighed in response, but his attention was absorbed by the creature standing before him.

She had white skin, clean and soft-looking. _Like the slopes of a white dome cake. _Her hair shone in the sun, making a halo around her head. _Like the coating of moist cake. _And the dark colors swathing her body made her glow all the more. _Cherry and almonds and dark syrup on cheesecake. _But her eyes, her eyes were the deepest brown. _The deep, delicious, sensual brown of chocolate. _

She was human, he was sure, but there was no other human that looked like she did.

His hand had fallen away from his mouth, his eyes were wide, and his mouth was open slightly in an expression of unguarded surprise; but he didn't notice. He didn't notice anything but her.

_She was beautiful._


	4. Social Experiment

Disclaimer: Okay, I've gotten tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. Death Note does not belong to me.

* * *

Chapter Four:

Social Experiment

_Flash!_

With the blink of an eye, L was back to his senses, chewing on his thumb forcefully. He had lost control. Again. This time because of a woman he had never even met before. Granted, she did have the voice.

_The voice that was soft, slightly shrill._

He was beginning to see a pattern here. He had seen the two entities in his dream in one day. What could this mean? What was the dream telling him?

"I'm very sorry, sir. Are you hurt?" A solemn voice said. The girl Aki, then.

He stood up and dusted himself off, turning around fully to stare at the three women. One of them was extremely pale and had short hair. The other one was a brunette with sensible clothes and a large leather briefcase. And the last one was her.

_The one with the voice_.

"It's quite alright, ladies." He replied calmly. "I feel fine. I was indeed in the way. Please forgive me."

"Misa!" the short-haired girl hissed, and nudged the other girl. She shot the short-haired girl a look.

Pouting, she turned to him. "Misa is sorry she bumped into you, mister." She said, finally smiling at him gaily, flashing pearly white teeth. "Misa didn't mean to. It's just that Misa has a photo shoot in an hour and Aki-chan and Keiko-chan need to come with Misa and hurry up eating!"

"It is fine, Misa-san… was it?" he said, gazing at her. Now that he looked at her properly, he noticed that her eyes were a bit too big for a Japanese woman's eyes, her nose too pert, and her mouth too full. Her face was too….something.

But she really was beautiful.

"Yes! Misa is Misa, and this is Aki-chan," she said, pointing to the woman with the suitcase, and then to the short-haired girl, "and Keiko-chan!"

"Ah, it is very nice to meet you, Aki-san, Keiko-san, Misa-san." He paused. "I am Ryuuzaki."

Keiko suddenly gasped. "Ryuuzaki-san, you're bleeding!"

His eyebrow furrowed. "Bleeding?"

"Don't you feel it?" she replied, pointing to his right shoulder where a small, deep gash was slowly blooming with blood. "It seems to be painful."

He really hadn't felt it until she pointed it out. "Oh," he said, dabbing his fingers against the gash, "it must have been a product of the sharp fences around these flower beds." He gestured to them, and then caught sight of Misa staring at the wound.

Her hands had found their way to the folds of her black skirt, and she was rubbing two ends together. "Ryuuzaki-san…" she trailed off, looking down.

"Would you allow us to apologize properly by inviting you to eat with us, Ryuuzaki-san?" Aki said, gesturing to the sweets shop.

There was no way he was allowing the second entity to slip away.

Before he could say anything, however, Misa grabbed his left hand and started pulling him, gently, into the shop. Her hand on his felt like a physical sting. He stiffened in surprise, his hand almost balling in an effort to escape her warm grasp. He heard Keiko take a sharp breath, preparing to rebuke Misa again. How could she….

She turned her chocolate brown eyes on him, lowered them quickly, and then smiled back into his eyes. It was so fast; anybody else wouldn't have seen it. But he did. Contrite. She was contrite. He blinked, slightly unnerved.

"Come on Ryuuzaki-san! Misa will treat your wound in the shop. We have to hurry!"

Hesitantly, he allowed her to drag him into the shop, Aki shaking her head and Keiko rolling her eyes behind them.

* * *

"Sir!" Misa called to a waiter, smiling and waving prettily, catching his and several other waiters' attention as they sat down a table. They came immediately and fawned over her, asking her what she needed and wanted. Even the men, and some women, in the other tables were looking at her. Yet, despite the crowd around her, she dominated over them.

_She's like a whirlwind_. He ignored Aki and Keiko's glances as he hitched his feet up on the seat and started chewing on his thumb.

"Do you have gauze, a bandage, and some ointment? Misa's friend here needs to be treated." She fluttered her eyelashes and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can you bring them right now?"

There was a flurry of activity as the men all rushed to do her bidding, and the other people gawked at her. And when the materials finally arrived, she ignored them all, and started unraveling the bandage. As she drew close and started to wrap the cloth around his arm, he tried to tell her it was the wrong way of application, then promptly shut up and froze up when he felt soft, gentle fingers pressing his sore upper arm. And all the while, she talked about her photo shoot that afternoon, sat down with a small twirl when she was finished, and ordered a plain tea.

L was fascinated.

For the first time, his attention was not on criminals, or computers, or sweets. He stared at Misa for the entire meal as she chattered away and refused to eat anything, especially sugar. She sounded so sure of herself when she said it too. This L could not comprehend at all.

He suddenly had an idea.

"Misa-san," he started, conversationally, "you don't like sweets?"

Misa, who was saying something about a pose, paused abruptly and frowned. "Ryuuzaki-san!" she exclaimed, jumping in her seat and leaning forward.

"It's rude to interrupt people when they're saying something. And, no, Misa doesn't like sugar because sugar makes people and Misa fat! It's bad for the figure." She said, nodding knowingly.

"Ryuuzaki-san shouldn't eat so much of it, or he'll get fat and sick." She added, wrinkling her nose.

"But Misa-san," he replied, slightly annoyed with her presumption. Sugar, bad? He lived on sugar for days, and knew it was as important as any other food and nutrient intake. "Sugar is a vital source of nutrient for the body. It is not 'bad', as you put it. That is the media sensibility you are extolling with all this talk."

"That may be true, Ryuuzaki-san," she countered. "But it doesn't change the fact that sugar makes people fat when taken in large amounts. And Misa-Misa is a rising star. Misa-Misa cannot afford to be fat; people don't like fat women in their magazines and televisions."

Plunking her hands on her waist, she glared at him in exasperation. "Honestly, Ryuuzaki-san, don't you know anything?"

He blinked. Honestly, he knew that. But that was a first. Nobody had ever said that to him before.

"Alright, Misa," Aki interrupted. Keiko was sniggering beside her. "You have only just known Ryuuzaki-san, and you're already arguing with him? Now, now, don't forget what just happened."

L saw a small tinge of pink enter Misa's cheeks.

"Misa is so sorry Ryuuzaki-san!" She said, blinking her large chocolate eyes. He leaned away slightly, wary and alert. "Misa has forgotten you were wounded because of Misa. We'll continue when you're better!" She chirped, eyes twinkling merrily.

_Perfect._

She had just given him the opening to figuring out her part in his dream.

"Would Misa-san allow me to ask for her phone number and visit her then?" he gazed at her innocently.

She looked at him for a long time with her lips puckered in thought, and he wondered what she was thinking to merit such deliberation.

"Come on," Keiko interjected, drinking her coffee delicately. "You can give it to him as part of your apology, Misa."

"Alright, then, Ryuuzaki-san," she nodded vigorously. "You can have Misa's number and Misa's address."

"Thank you, Misa-san. I am extremely grateful."

"But," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, looking at him severely. "You have to visit Misa only when she's alone at home. Without any visitors."

Why would that be such an important concern? "Of course, Misa-san."

"Also, Ryuuzaki-san should be nice and not look at Misa like he wants to eat her. Like you're doing right now," she looked at him pointedly, and started writing on a piece of tissue. "Ryuuzaki-san looks too perverted to Misa."

Before he could respond, she suddenly screeched, glancing at the shop's wall clock. "We'll be late, Aki-chan, Keiko-chan! Hurry up!" Biting her lip, she stood and fluttered around the table, her skirts rustling and her perfume lingering in the air.

"See you, Ryuuzaki-san!" She grinned at him and made a small wave.

"Okay, okay, Misa, we're done." Aki smiled, laid some money on the table, and took Misa's hand. She glanced at him. "It was nice meeting you, Ryuuzaki-san."

"Same here," Keiko said, and they walked to the shop's door. As she passed by him, he felt Misa brush her hand on his shoulder for the briefest moment, and then she was gone.

Smoothing out the tissue and carefully tucking it in his pocket, he gazed after her. She was so vibrant, and every action, every facial expression was a movement of the entire body. His movements were always controlled and designed to conserve energy, more for the brain than the body. But she was like a flighty dancer, and she moved with the grace of someone who knows she is being looked at but still seems natural doing it.

"I wouldn't try my luck on her, if I were you," a voice said. It was the first waiter Misa had called. L turned around in his seat to stare at him. He laid the box of sweets L had ordered earlier on the table and took a step back, looking at him strangely. "Well, that is…um… She's way out of your league." And he started to pick up the plates, avoiding L's eyes.

L was incredulous. Out of his league? That was just preposterous. In what way was she out of his league? He was L, the greatest detective in the world, and she, a small-time model, was out of his league?

"I have a question," he said tonelessly, directing his attention back to the waiter and making him spill some coffee in the process, "how is she out of my league?"

The waiter blinked at him.

He blinked back.

"What?" the waiter finally laughed. "You don't know? Man, you should look at yourself in the mirror." L did, and he was sure he looked perfectly fine. "Haven't you ever dated before?"

In fact, he hadn't. Well, that was a minor technicality. Occasionally, he had to research on certain aspects of dating that may have a connection with motives and people. He had seen and known people who dated in his cases. But then, cases never mention things like this.

"Of course, I have," he picked up a cup of tea with his fingertips. "And I have never experienced any difficulties before."

"Well, I'm telling you, she's different. She wouldn't go for guys like you, or me. She'll have one of those handsome guys in convertibles." The waiter sighed, looking down, and wiping the table. "Ah, well, that's life."

He left, the plates rattling in his arms.

L smirked as he picked up his supplies, stood up, and made his way outside to the car and a waiting Watari. He had decided to 'date' Misa, as that ignorant waiter aptly put.

He had always thought he should conduct at least one social experiment to relate himself better with the rest of his race. Counting in his mission to determine what his dream was all about, there could be no better plan than this.

He gazed outside the window, pleased.

Besides, he had found the perfect test subject.


	5. Meet

Disclaimer: Gosh. I wish I could say I own Deathnote.

Chapter 5: Meet

It was with some trepidation that L stepped out of the limousine and into the university grounds. For the first time, he was nervous, but felt foolish feeling so. Despite his great admiration for Yagami Light, this type of nervousness was totally neither unnecessary nor called for. It was the kind that stemmed from insecurity and inferiority. And L was far from insecure and inferior. He was prepared. He was steps ahead of this person.

Nevertheless, the nervousness was spreading in his system, and it flowed in his footsteps as he slowly walked towards the testing center.

Ignoring the whispers and sniggers, he gradually raised his head and viewed the crowd through hooded eyes, searching for the brown-headed Yagami Light. Inwardly, he sneered at them, so full of themselves, feeling superior to him because of their normalcy and their ordinariness, when all along it was L who protected them, who saved them from the criminals. Silent pleasure coursing through him, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, his lips quirking slightly in the sides, and entered the testing room.

Hoisting his feet onto the chair, he seated himself on the side of the aisle near the back of the room, anticipating seeing Light walking down it. He ignored the lady handing out pencils, and felt his breath hitch when a long-awaited flash of brown entered the room.

He held himself still as all around him, the world was reduced to a slow blur, and the soft, careful tread of his nemesis filled his ears. He kept his eyes straight forward, never wavering, as Yagami Light's carefully pressed sleeve delicately brushed against his arm. The world spun into focus again, and L watched Light's smooth walk and fluid grace as he sat down two seats ahead of L.

He smiled mutely. How ironic, he thought, as he stared at the back of Light's head, that, today, Light is ahead of him. His whole body was shaking with mirth as he bit his thumb to still its trembling.

By then, the lady had already finished handing out the test papers, and L looked down to assess his. His lip curled in distaste. It was too easy, and if he weren't here for the sake of his case, he would've crumpled the piece of paper into a neat ball and happily thrown it into the bin. He had more important things to do than take a pathetic test. As things stood, though, he would have to endure this idiocy.

Suddenly feeling as though he was being watched, and this, being L, unnerved him, he looked up warily to find himself looking straight into the eyes of Yagami Light.

It was like an electric bolt. It seemed as though those pure hazel eyes engulfed him for a single second, and then, rejecting, deposited him wanting on his lowly place. A sudden, intense electricity pierced his entire body that he almost toppled off his seat.

But he held his stance and accepted the challenge, staring back as intently as Light was.

A finely formed brow inched up in response, whether from annoyance, curiosity, or defiance, L did not know, but he held the stare until Yagami Light looked away and began on his test.

L bent his unruly head over the paper as well, hiding an excited and fascinated smile.

* * *

L wondered whether he was being too conspicuous or not.

Well, he supposed he was. It wasn't his fault Yagami Light wants to sit at the center of a restaurant, forcing him to take the other table at the center of the restaurant. The girls ogling, giggling, and drooling at his target were starting to get on his usually calm nerves. So, now he was becoming messy and spilling most of his ice cream in the sides in an effort to not throw the spoon in their annoying faces. Unfortunately, his "spilling" was starting to land on other tables as well, earning him death glares.

He sighed quietly.

It was bad enough his sitting habits attracted too much attention, but this entire situation was making him stand out too much it was almost ridiculous. He had believed it would be a good reconnaissance mission if he followed Light and some of the other people who took the test to a small café by the university, pretending he would only be getting some refreshments just like everybody else after the long exam. But this was starting to seem like a very, very big mistake.

First of all, it would seem as though he was intentionally stalking Yagami Light, especially after the small staring contest they were doing earlier. Secondly, the people in the café gawking at him and Light were forcing Light to notice him again. Already, he could see Light glancing at him in the corner of his eyes. He did not need Light to become suspicious of him too early in the game.

Feeling resigned, he placed some money on the table and stood up to leave, sending his ice cream cup crashing on the floor.

Mentally cursing some choice words in French and German, he bent down to pick up the fallen cup, stretching out a hand and blinking in surprise when it came in contact with another more slender one.

"Let me help you," a light, tenor voice responded, making L's heart skip slightly as he looked up and found himself facing Yagami Light's handsome face and dancing eyes.

Slowly, L bowed his head and darted his hand towards the cup, snatching it quickly.

"Thank you very much," he said as he stood up on wobbly knees and carefully set the cup on top of the table, "but it appears that I am perfectly fine."

"Oh?" Light quirked an eyebrow as he rose from his near-crouch to stand tall, perhaps even taller than L. "It was not so apparent a while ago, when I noticed a spoon-sized bit of ice cream flew near my cheek and into that plant." He pointed to an onion-like plant with withering leaves, some ice cream melting on its forlorn leaves and onto the pot's earth.

Emotionlessly, L looked at him squarely. "Your concern is much appreciated, but I am alright. I have to leave – "

"Tell me, " Light interrupted, a gleam in his eye, as he took a step closer to L. "Is there someone in this room that disturbs you so much that you are this unnerved?"

Tamping down his panic, L gave a low chuckle, gazing at Light from behind his bangs. "I am no more unnerved than you are, sir."

Lowering his head slightly, L sauntered out of the café, feeling Light's burning eyes on his back.

It has begun.


End file.
